I love alcohol. When I’m just slightly on the other side of lucid, I love everybody and everything’s funny and colorful and fuzzy. If I ever went to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, I’d go drunk and tell them all how happy alcohol has made me, and invite them over to my house for a tiny ‘tini. “Hello, Chris!” Without alchohol, we wouldn’t have the Wiffenpoof song, or, or, okay, countless senseless road deaths, liver transplants and abused spouses, souses, but today I sing the glories of drinking. In moderation. Plus a little bit more. In celebration of the merry month of May, and my last month living with Bob, I offer you this toast, with a Gary Farrell 2001 Starr Ridge Pinot–to love’s illusion: long may it cloud my vision and drive the rest of you to near insanity, and may none of us ever be without it.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and blah blah blah blah BLAH…